A Robin RedBreast In A Cage
by HellsBellsSinClub
Summary: One missed call. A new voice mail. A serial killer on the loose. Alfred. F. Jones thought he had left his dark past behind him but it looks like it has finally come back claim him once more. Will his friends be able to save him? Will he want to be? Hannibal Lecter series inspired. Based off an rp idea.


The city sounds from bellow were a dull roar in the summer heat. A body laid on the bed, covered only by a thin sheet that showed the naked tanned body that sweated underneath it. Posters of attractive men and women in different poses littered against the walls next to images of superheros and famous movies. There were a photo on the bed side table next to the phone and a pare of glasses, holding the image of two siblings, more then likely twins, smiling and laughing together at the beach. The taller sibling had messy blonde hair and bright smile that brought out his clear blue eyes; while the other sibling seemed to be more lighter and reserved, but no less happy then his brother. They looked almost the same as each other, if it had not been for the difference in eyes (one with amazing blue eyes, the other with an exotic shade of purple) you could barely tell them apart. The darkness of the room made the picture hard too see and look negative and haunting as the low lights from the city bounced occasionally against the glass. The night was calm and the dull roar was nothing more then a lullaby for the body in the sweat covered bed.

The peaceful tranquility of the night was abruptly interrupted by the vibrations of the the phone, the bright automatic lights on the screen lighting up on the bedside table, illuminating the photo in a eerie blue light. The body groaned awake and tangled within the sheets looked towards the blinding glow and the noise.

_Bizz._

_Bizz._

_Bizz._

_Bizz._

A tired hand reaches out for the phone as the buzzing finally stopped and blearily looks at the screen, bright blue eyes narrowing at both the light and in attempt to read the small words without the much needed glasses. A frown appears on the young male face. With a yawn the man sits up and runs a careless hand through messy blonde hair and sits up, letting the light sheet covering his nearly naked body fall against the bed. The young mans body was toned and tanned with strong muscles. His body would have been what all men and women would desire if it was not for the large and pink scars against his chest. The cursive writing that stood out against the tan like a tattoo. Fingers lightly traced the words with a frown as the phone is unlocked and the message is played over small speakers, revealing a amused British voice that hid malice and dark desires.

[1 Missed call. Caller unknown]

[1 New voice mail.]

"My dear little Lad, how you have grown.

It has been a while, has it not? Almost five years now to the day since you 'caught' me, so to say. How are your scars? Do they hurt? Do lovers like them? Or do they avoid them when you have sex because they do not like their apparent ugliness? I think they would like beautiful against your skin. A mark that belonged to only the two of us. Something that you could see and always remember me by, even if it is supposed hate you think you feel when you see it. Though by now I am sure you have heard the news of my… escape and I want you to know that I am not going to kill you. I do not hate you for taking away my freedom and leaving me to _rot_ in a cell all alone next to _idiotic _fools. Nor do I blame you for never returning my letters. Or my calls. No, I do not hate you at all. I will forever love you my dear little lad. With all that being said I shall be seeing you soon to catch up on where we left off.

Cherio little Alfred. Cherio."

The message beeped and the automatic female voice telling him that there was no more messages spoke through the speakers now as the young man, who's name seemed to be Alfred sat on the bed with a horrified look. The fingers traced over the words that scared over his chest as he remembered who and where he got the scars from.

Dr. Arthur Kirkland.

The Dark Gentleman.

A serial killer. Murderer.

His adopted big brother.

The letters on Alfred chest burnt as he traced over them once more as he phoned the police, the smoothness of the marks slowly becoming words as the operator answered. Words that Alfred will never forget, not matter how much he wanted to.

_You're mine._

* * *

So, hello there. I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter. This was based off an RP Idea I had and have decided to use. Not sure on the paring just yet and where this will go but I have a good idea. Please review if you did like it or have any constrictive criticism.


End file.
